by David Armand Every time he bought a pack of cigarettes— Camel Special Lights, which I don’t even think they make anymore—my friend Nik would peel off the cellophane, open the box, and pull one out; then he’d flip it upside down so that the filtered end was at the bottom of the pack and the…
by Chris Dungey With first light and all through the bitter day, a dandelion lint of snow settles. Each filament gathers dust bunnies loath to press flat those beneath. For the first time in a month, a man stands in a mirror knotting a tie that has no silk-screen Santa monogram or carol button. A neighbor’s dog heralds an approaching…
by Annh Browder I have always hated noise. After the funeral, it seemed like no one ever stopped talking. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” “She would want you to be happy,” and “If you ever need anything, let me know” were only a few of the constant sounds that…